Into My Skin
by hoggywartyhogwarts77
Summary: After defeating Alduin and restoring peace to Skyrim, the mythical dragonborn of legend never thought she would be faced with a challenge she couldn't overcome and expects to assume a modest and unassuming lifestyle to live out the remainder of her days. What she didn't expect was that the greatest challenge of all would come in the form of a mysterious dunmer sellsword's heart.
1. The Northern Maiden

Disclaimer: I do not own the world or characters that Bethesda so creatively imagined.

As a lazy smile wound its way across Teldryn Sero's regal features, Rowena couldn't help from smiling herself at his libertine expression. It was during these rare moments of emotional expression that she cherished; her mysterious dark elf follower wasn't apt to expressing feeling at any time other than blunt sarcasm and cool detachment. Although Rowena often appreciated his distance and ability to rationally assess situations with logic, it was nice to see him for once surrendering himself to the simple pleasures of life. She watched with quiet fascination as his eyes closed and the subtle sea breeze ruffled through his dark hair. The usual crease between his eyebrows had vanished in what seemed to Rowena to be a feeling of total peace and exhilaration. She found it difficult to wrench her eyes away from this fascinating spectacle when one of his brilliant scarlet eyes cracked open and the small smile turned into a discriminatory smirk with the characteristically sardonic demeanour he so frequently embodied.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked with an upward curl of his lips. Although he had closed his eyes again Rowena could practically feel the mischievous glint sparkling in them, the same glint that always appeared when he was teasing her.

Rowena had to take a moment to collect her jumbled thoughts before responding. "I… I could ask you the same question." She finally stammered, earning herself another one-eyed sidelong glance from the dunmer sell-sword. He chuckled and this time both his eyes opened, the deep crimson irises fixing on Rowena's sparkling sea green ones.

"I haven't left Solstheim in three years. Three whole years wasting away on that smoking volcanic slab of netch shit with nothing to do but drink, piss, and drink some more." He looked away, off into the grey smudge on the horizon that Rowena knew to be the province of Skyrim, the place that had been her home for the last three years ever since her initial arrest. So much had happened since then and she had grown so accustomed to the provinces' harsh wintery landscape and cold tundra climate that she had almost forgotten there were others who would be ecstatic to return there. Personally Rowena would have preferred to stay on Solstheim for a bit longer and explore all of its hidden secrets, but honestly she had grown so tired of Teldryn's endless requests to return to Skyrim that she had finally relented. Some part of her was excited to see her homeland, the part that wanted to head back to her comfortable home in Windhelm and check up on her friends with the Thieves Guild, but she knew that this wouldn't be the last time she saw the mysterious island of Solstheim.

One thing had been bothering her about Teldryn's confession, however, and it had been a question she'd asked herself ever since she'd heard the sell-swords intriguing story. She couldn't contain the curiosity anymore, even if it would come across as intrusive. "If you hate Solstheim so much… why didn't you just leave? Come back to Skyrim, or Morrowind?" Rowena asked, eyebrows knitting together and lower lip catching between her teeth. The expression on Teldryn's face sobered and he acquired that familiar distance in his eyes that always piqued Rowena's interest.

When he took so long to answer that Rowena feared he never would, she cautiously approached him, stepping up next to him at the bow of the ship so that they were standing shoulder to shoulder, staring out across the bleak expanse of steel grey water with nothing but the shadow of Skyrim lurking in the eerie mist ahead. She glanced at him but quickly looked away when she detected the clouds in his eyes and she instead fixed her line of sight on the constant, unceasing horizon ahead.

"What about returning to Blacklight? Every time you talk about it…" she trailed off, not daring to end the sentence in case he became guarded and detached like he always did when she tried to make analyses about his emotions. "I mean… you just seem like you miss it."

"Of course I miss it, don't you have any idea how much I've wanted to do all the things you've been thinking all this time?" he asked, his voice ominously low. Rowena bristled slightly at his combative tone of voice, his defensive ways causing her own defensive walls to rise up as well. She turned her body to face him and was about to tell him off for being so passive aggressive when her momentary flare of annoyance diminished with the sight of the crestfallen dunmer standing before her, not even recognizing the usual exuberant and sarcastic elf she knew. She faltered for a moment, leaning back against the curve of the boat and looking down at her worn leather boots.

She heard Teldryn shift beside her and one glance up showed her that he had turned to face her as well, his eyes burning into her face with a kind of manic urgency, as if all this time he'd been supressing the answer he'd always been avoiding. "I can't. I was stuck. No money, barely enough to scrape by on sujamma and cheap lodgings at the Retching Netch, waiting for somebody, anything to come around and save me. Is that what you want to hear, Rowena? Is this what you want from me? To hear my sad, pathetic story so you can… what?"

Rowena frowned but forced herself to look up at him, her own gaze meeting his fiery one. She tried to adopt a calm and collected mannerism but found it hard to formulate sentences under his debilitating glare. "N-no, I was just asking. Of course I don't… why would I…" She sighed and gave up, turning again to the front, the smudge against the horizon getting increasingly larger with every passing minute. Teldryn sighed heavily beside her and ran a hand through his spiked black hair with an air of exasperation oozing out of his very pores. Finally, Rowena said, "I just want to understand."

Teldryn made a derisive sound in the back of his throat and shook his head. "Some things are better left alone." Relative silence settled upon the two of them then, with nothing but the sounds of the other sailors hollering to one another and the ship bell tolling.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry." Rowena apologized after several short minutes of tense silence, the frustration between them building up into an insurmountable tension that she could no longer endure. "It's just, I feel like if we're going to be on the same page we need to at least know a little bit about one another, don't you think?"

He was quiet again for a minute, but from the softening of his facial expression Rowena thought that she finally may have gotten through to him in getting him to open up. Then he closed himself off again and with one last fleeting glance at her, he stepped down from the prow and walked away, leaving her alone to look out across the lonely expanse of steely water and the faint smudge of familiarity on the horizon.

I staggered down the darkening path, clutching the burn on my shoulder, gritting my teeth against the pain and hobbling on the leg that hadn't been violently slashed open during the bandit attack. Solstheim was in much worse a state than I could have ever imagined – even despite hearing all the stories of the power-crazy immigrants that inhabited the small island and the ashspawn that infested its every inch, I still couldn't have realized the full degree of trauma that it was currently in. As I stumbled into Raven Rock, the first town that I had visited upon visiting Solstheim, I made my way toward the Retching Netch in the hopes of renting a room for the night and getting a chance to tend to my wounds in the best way I could. For now all I'd managed to do was bind up the cut that riekling had given me, which had at least ebbed the flow of blood which had previously been cascading from the wound, but unfortunately I had no means to help the burn that the ashspawn had inflicted on me immediately after the initial attack. The only restoration spell I knew was very general and mostly ineffective, so my burn had persisted the whole walk back to the only official dark elf settlement on the island, and my leg hadn't fared much better. Already the cloth I had used to bind it was soaked with my crimson blood, the liquid slowly darkening with each step I took. When I finally reached the door to the inn, I slowly pushed it open and was welcomed by a warm light beckoning me in and the sound of voices murmuring softly.

I had to resist from collapsing right then and there when I was so close to the sanctuary of a private room and a warm bed. I walked in and the first thing I saw was the mysterious man that had always sat in the same chair to the far left of the bar, the strange and alien-like helmet he always wore masking his facial features and shrouding him in mystery.

As the sun slowly slunk below the horizon, Rowena's head began to nod with exhaustion after the long and stressful day. Sitting on a hard, cold wooden bench along the starboard side of the ship, however, was not an ideal place to sleep, so each time she thought she was going to fall into a blissfully unconscious state she found her head snapping up again, eyelids fluttering open as her harsh reality came back into sharp focus. The line dividing her dreamlike state and the real world was continuing to blur rapidly. For a fleeting second she saw the high walls of Whiterun, and the next she was peering up at the Throat of the World, apprehension filling her stomach and fear prickling the hair on her forearms. Next she was looking into someone's face, a dark elf who was oddly familiar…

"The dragonborn, on this very ship…"

"Would you knock it off, Sogrlaf?"

"What? It's just odd, is all. You hear all about the legendary dragonborn from the stories, running around Skyrim and saving the world, then next thing you know she's boarding your ship... she's rather easy on the eyes, wouldn't you agree, Lygrleid?"

Teldryn Sero sat in a chair in the far back corner of the ship's inner room, his head leaned back and chitin armour helmet casually masking his features from recognition. He had propped his feet up on the wooden table in front of his chair and had been attempting to sleep for some time, however the constant motion of the ship coupled with the idiotic banter of the crewmates had prevented him from doing so. Instead he had been sitting for an agonizingly long time in the uncomfortable chair, forced to listen to the scoundrels make rude and pigheaded remarks about his female nord companion, the one who also just happened to be the mythic dragonborn of legend and hero of Skyrim. Teldryn assumed that the nwahs were too wrapped up in their shallow conversation to notice the silent dunmer brooding in the corner, every inch of his body from head to foot covered in light chitin armour; or perhaps they did see him and merely believed he was in fact asleep. Unfortunately for them, he had been fully conscious throughout the duration of their discussion, and Teldryn wasn't going to sit idly by for one more moment as the men continued to objectify his patron. Teldryn eyed the men silently, sizing up his marks as he always did when he was analyzing potential prey – one of the men, a blonde-haired nord and the biggest, loudest and rudest of them all, was laughing obnoxiously and slapping a fist against his thigh, his other hand holding up a mug filled right to the brim with what appeared to be mead. Teldryn knew that they had been drinking throughout the course of the night, opening keg after keg of mead and filing their cups as they talked nonsensically and rudely. That was all fine and good – it would be easier for Teldryn to slice their throats if they were slow and blundering.

"…It's a real shame she wears all that bulky armour. I'd love to get a nice clear shot of her–" the blonde nord's derogatory sentence was cut off when the men noticed Teldryn, perhaps for the first time that night, standing over them menacingly. The brute paused for a moment, looking Teldryn up and down before smirking stupidly and taking a huge swig of his mead. "So, what've we got here? A grey-skin, eh? From that smoking shit pile Solstheim?"

Teldryn's fingers balled into fists at his sides, and he could feel the fire burning steadily in his stomach, rising like lava in a volcano up his throat. "How ever did you guess?" Teldryn asked, his voice low and feigning calmness in his attempts to control himself.

"I'm familiar with your kind, elf." He said the word with contempt and spat bitterly on the floor to the right before looking back at Teldryn with a dilapidated smile, his words slurring from the effects of the alcohol. "Why don't you take off that scary mask you got there?" he paused and looked around at his goonish friends, a malicious spark igniting in his eye. "On second thought, keep it on – I bet it's much more attractive than your ashy face."

As the men guffawed Teldryn made his move, and in one fluent motion he had managed to kick the chair out from under the blond nord and pin him against the wall behind, his hand wrapped around the man's meaty neck. The mug of ale he'd been holding clattered to the floor, spilling its amber contents on the wooden panels and seeping through the cracks. The laughter stopped immediately and Teldryn stared into the blond man's face, who was now gasping and choking for air under his strong grip. One of his friends got up and was about to pull Teldryn off when the latter, calmly and assuredly, used his free arm to elbow the nord square in the nose, sending him sprawling back in pain.

"You know, I happen to know your kind quite well, too…" Teldryn directed his words to the big blond nord now, watching with deep satisfaction as his face began to purple and his hands clawed desperately at Teldryn's grip. "A big, blundering buffoon of a nord bringing shame and dishonour upon your entire race by burying your sorrows in the bottom of a bottle of mead, looking down upon anyone who doesn't share your heritage because you're too much of a coward to admit to yourself the absolute waste of space and oxygen that you are. Well… did I get it right? Please, tell me if I'm missing anything. I wouldn't want you thinking that my kind can't make a proper assumption about a common lowlife like yourself."

"F-fuck… you…" the nord's face had contorted and twisted in hatred as Teldryn had conducted his analysis, and he managed to squeeze out the words despite the fact that his face was now the same colour as Sadri's famous sujamma.

"Say one more idiotic remark about my companion and I will burn you alive. You can count on that." Teldryn subtly ignited a deep crimson flame in the hand that wasn't holding the man's neck against the wall just to add effect to his words. "So much as one sideways look at her and you will regret the day you ever boarded this infernal ship." There was fear in the man's eyes now, to the great satisfaction of Teldryn, and just as he was about to permanently punch the smirk off the nord's face the sound of a door being thrown open and loud footsteps resonating over the wooden panels of the ships caused him to hesitate.

"What in the name of Talos is going on here?" Teldryn grimaced under his helmet when he recognized the low and domineering voice of the ship's captain, Gjalund Salt-Sage. The nord's eyes had drifted over Teldryn's shoulder and the dark elf subtly turned his head, his eyes immediately falling on the burly nord man, his wild dark beard flecked with flakes of snow and his eyes narrowed into points of annoyance as the scene before him unfolded.

"Evening, Salt-Sage. I was just getting acquainted with your… vernacular crew here. Quite charming, really. You sure know how to pick them." Teldryn drawled sarcastically, watching in slight bemusement as Gjalund surveyed his surroundings, taking in the nord on the ground, his nose squashed and bleeding after getting elbowed by Teldryn, and Teldryn himself, still holding the big brutish blond against the wall as he kicked and struggled against him. The fire in Teldryn's palm was still flickering ominously, illuminating and casting strange shadows on his contorted helmet.

"Sero. Let the poor man go. We play nice here on the Northern Maiden. You know the rules. And douse that magic, before you burn the whole ship down and everyone on it."

With a small but dramatic sigh Teldryn made a theatrical show of releasing the blond nord and putting out the flame in his hand, watching with contempt in his eyes as the man slumped against the floor and clutched at his neck vindictively. He looked up at Teldryn with an inferno of hatred in his eyes.

"You're going to pay for that, grey-skin."

"Do I detect… was that a threat, my nord friend?" Teldryn looked innocently up towards Gjalund before turning back to the snivelling nord on the floor. "Didn't you hear your captain? Try to… play nice. You know, you could learn something from him." The last sentence had a hint of animosity in it, a fact that was not lost on the nord, as his mouth curled into a sour grimace of utter hatred. A serpentine smile wound its way upon Teldryn's lips and for a moment he wished that the man could see his expression beneath his chitin helmet. He turned on his heel abruptly, satisfied with how it had all turned out, yet immensely disappointed that Gjarlund had showed up before the real fun had begun. Teldryn nodded at the captain, intending to move past him through the door leading to the upper deck – he needed some fresh air to clear his head, and his vision was rimmed with red. However the burly captain placed a menacing hand on Teldryn's bicep, effectively halting him in his tracks.

He lowered his head to mutter in Teldryn's ear. "Sero. Pull one more move like that, and I will not hesitate to throw you off this ship and feed you to the netches. This is my ship and you will abide by her rules so long as you're on her. Don't test me. Do I make myself clear?"

Teldryn's expression soured, but he had expected this from the cool, detached captain of the Northern Maiden. Teldryn respected the man, who was hardy and brazen and good at what he did, all traits that he had come to admire. So he gave a small, curt nod in response, realizing he was quite lucky that Salt-Sage was taking this whole ordeal uncharacteristically diplomatically. "Crystal, captain." He wanted to add another sassy remark but refrained when he saw the severity in Gjalund's eyes, and he turned away, opening the door and trudging up the steps leading to the upper deck.

The cold, sharp breeze helped clear Teldryn's mind of the clouds of anger that had collected in their deepest catacombs, and he pulled his helmet off to fully relish in the feeling of the cool air washing against his feverish skin. He allowed his eyes to close as he calmed himself, his heartrate slowly decreasing in speed as he tried to forget all of the perverted things the nords had said about Rowena. Teldryn frowned for a moment, realizing the magnitude of his feelings for this woman he barely knew, who had hired him just over a week ago and had never opened up to him more than to explain briefly about her near-decapitation in Skyrim years ago. He barely knew a thing about the mysterious nord maiden, aside from the fact that she was dragonborn and had the uncanny ability to pierce the heart of a reaver from a mile away with that dark, ornate bow that seemed to hum with magic and electricity every time she strung it. And yet, despite not knowing the most fundamental facts about her, he had already grown fiercely protective of her (although he knew better than anyone that she didn't need protection from any man, woman, or beast, adept and skilled as she was.) Just hearing those men talk about her in such graphic and cruel terms had lit a fire in his stomach; and while he was used to getting into drunken brawls with idiots, the subject matter and reason for the fight usually stemmed from a personal insult towards himself, rather than on behalf of somebody else's defense. This struck Teldryn as strange. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt protective of someone.

Just as he was thinking this he caught side of the woman he had just been thinking of, and the image he found of her would forever be burned into his mind as a moment of pure adoration and hilarity. Lying, slumped on one of the wooden benches on the side of the Northern Maiden, was Rowena, the dragonborn of legend, her shockingly red hair pulled back into a messy side braid, pieces falling out and framing her delicate, feminine features as her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm of relaxation. Teldryn had to restrain himself from allowing the bubble of laughter to erupt from within his throat, but after his initial surprise to see his aloof and detached patron fast asleep and innocent as a lamb wore off, that unfamiliar pang of possessiveness swept through him again and he approached her cautiously, afraid to wake her in her state of peaceful slumber. As he grew closer he saw that her full, rosy lips were parted slightly, her head lolling slightly to the left to expose the side of her porcelain white neck, its gentle feminine slope leading Teldryn's eyes to where it connected to her delicate shoulder and sharp collarbone. He caught his breath when she murmured something incoherent in her sleep, and he froze, worried that he had woken her – or worse, that she hadn't really been asleep and had caught him staring at her in this compromising state – however to his intense relief she merely turned over into a position that looked increasingly uncomfortable. Teldryn shivered against the now unwanted chill of the wind blowing off the water, shocked and amazed that Rowena could handle this intense cold – must be her nord blood, he thought fleetingly. He looked down at her face, so innocent and worry-free in stark contrast to the cold and carefully arranged, mechanical expression she always wore when waking, the expression Teldryn assumed was adopted in order to protect herself from the harsh and bleak reality of the world. He felt an uncomfortable pulling in his heart, entirely unfamiliar and alien, and he suddenly felt as intrusive and perverted as the nords who had been talking about her as he watched her in this vulnerable state.

"T-Teldryn…? Is that you?" Rowena's eyes were still closed, but her mouth was moving, and the words would have been inaudible if not for Teldryn's close proximity to her. He cringed, eyes widening in shock and humiliation at having been found out, however her voice sounded like that of someone who had been drugged, as if she was still halfway between consciousness and the eerie catacombs of sleep. "Sero…"

Teldryn's breath hitched at the sound of her voice breathily calling him by the name she always used when criticizing or reprimanding him, and despite the fact that he disliked her calling him this while waking, there was something highly arousing about the way she said it now, in this strange in-between state of waking and dreaming.

"By the eight, Rowena," Teldryn murmured under his breath, shaking his head and fighting back the sudden lustful tightening in his groin as he watched her turn over in her sleep again, still incoherently whispering his name. "Boethiah, forgive me," he muttered as he bent down to scoop the small nord up into his arms, her frame surprisingly light despite her physical strength and prowess. Her eyelids fluttered as he carried her toward her private sleeping quarters, snowflakes collecting in her long eyelashes and clinging to her crimson hair. The tightening of her arms around his neck and the feeling of her lean body against his own didn't help Teldryn fight off his increasingly mounting arousal and he grit his teeth, annoyed at her for being the way she was and having the effect on him that she had.

"You're not going to remember this tomorrow, dragonborn, got it? And even if you do, I don't want to know about it." Teldryn lowered her onto the rough bed in her quarters and pulled the sheepskin blanket over her body as she sighed contentedly. Teldryn stood over her, watching for a moment, hating himself for the sudden rise of affection he felt towards her radiating warmth throughout his entire being. "Damn it."

Like it or not, she had gotten into his skin.


	2. Whispers

Rowena woke up the next morning groggy and disoriented, unsure of her surroundings or what had happened to get her to them. She found herself in a warm albeit small bed, the covers tucked up around her chin and protecting her from the chilly gusts of wind that managed to seep through the cracks in the door that separated her from the deck of the Northern Maiden. Just as she was throwing the blankets off her person she heard a knock resounding through her quaint cabin and she froze.

"Rowena?" she was able to immediately deduce that the voice belonged to Teldryn, his tone slightly bleary and husky as if he had just woken up. Rowena felt an odd mixture of emotions welling up inside her at the sound of his familiar voice, and she was suddenly overwhelmed when a memory struggled to surface in her mind. She knew in her heart that the memory was somehow associated with Teldryn, but she couldn't collect enough pieces of the puzzle to construct a coherent storyline. Instead she simply allowed the simplicity and comfort that the half-forgotten memory brought her flow throughout her being and warming her straight to her frigid toes. "Rowena, we've docked in Windhelm." There was a brief pause and Rowena felt herself smiling. She was glad to be home. "Are you awake?

"I'm up," Rowena replied quickly, surprised by the curtness of her voice. His response was a mere grunt and the sound of his retreating footsteps, creaking on the wooden panels of the ship's deck. She threw the covers off her and dressed quickly before running through her pack to double check that she had everything she needed. When she'd confirmed that everything she needed was in its right place by her side, she quickly examined her appearance in the little mirror that hung on the wall opposite her bed. The first thing she noticed was the dark circles under her eyes and her red, bloodshot corneas. Although she had miraculously slept well last night, one of the first good night sleeps she'd had in longer than she could remember, it evidently hadn't been enough to fully rejuvenate her after all the crazy debacles that had occurred on the island of Solstheim. Regardless, she was just content to be back in Skyrim where she belonged and her first desire was to head straight into Windhelm and settle down in Hjerim, where she knew Calder would be waiting with a big smile on his face. The thought lifted her spirits marginally and she found she actually had the energy to leave the little cabin she'd slept in that night and face the cold, snowy world outside.

Teldryn was standing near the prow of the ship, conversing casually with Gjalund Salt-Sage, the hardy nord who operated the ship whom Rowena was only tentatively acquainted with. She'd sailed the Northern Maiden exactly twice in her short lifetime, and on each occasions he hadn't spoken much to the aloof and quiet captain. However Teldryn seemed to know him well enough and was even managing to elicit actual laughter from the burly, bearded nord, which was a feat in itself. Rowena couldn't recall ever seeing the somber man smile so much as laugh, and Rowena wondered whether Teldryn simply knew him well or if it was just his natural charm and people skills that were bringing hardy chuckles out of Salt-Sage. She walked towards them nervously, the cape of her Nightingale armour billowing restlessly in the wind. Gjalund sobered when he saw her approach, but his eyes were kinder and softer than she'd ever seen them.

"Good morning, Dragonborn," Salt-Sage addressed her formally, making Rowena feel momentarily uncomfortable. Only the Blades and the Greybeards ever really called her Dragonborn, and it made her squirm even coming from them, whom she had gotten used to over the years. To hear it from this near stranger felt even more alien. She nodded at him and tried for a smile.

"Morning." Rowena scrabbled for something to say, but she had never been very good at idle small-talk. "Erm, nice weather." She cringed the moment the words left her mouth, registering with a pang of humiliation the black clouds rolling across the sky and shrouding everything below it in darkness, promising rain.

Teldryn, however, chuckled benignly at her social slip-up and managed to cover up her embarrassment, to Rowena's great gratitude. "I think our friend here is so used to the horrible conditions on Solstheim that even this is better in comparison." Gjalund chuckled and Rowena joined him, shooting Teldryn a grateful smile when the former wasn't looking. Teldryn always knew how to turn an awkward situation into something silly and laughable.

"Well, it was a pleasure, Salt-Sage. I hope you won't take it personally when I tell you I hope I won't be seeing you soon." Teldryn jested, shaking Gjalund's hand amiably, a wicked smile playing around the corners of his lips. She knew even without this comment his level of distaste for Solstheim, and how much he had pestered her to bring him back to Skyrim was enough evidence for this. Gjalund seemed to know this fact, as well, for he laughed at the joke.

"The pleasure was all mine, Sero. Although I have to reciprocate your sentiments; I don't think my crew will want to see you again any time soon, either." The man and elf both laughed at this shared, private inside joke, and Rowena looked between them curiously, wondering what they were talking about. Rowena didn't know any of the crewmates of the Northern Maiden personally, but she'd seen one of them eyeing her like a predator sizing up its prey. She'd had to hold back the urge to draw her bow and send an ebony arrow straight into the nord's throat when he'd cat called derogatively when she walked by. She decided she would have to ask Teldryn about it later, but at the moment she was content in simply blending into the background, preferring as always to let her companion deal with other people.

When Rowena and Teldryn had said their goodbyes to the nord captain of the Northern Maiden, they crossed the gangway onto the dock and headed through the stony corridor leading in to Windhelm. Rowena waved at Scouts-Many-Marshes as they passed, and the argonian gladly smiled back, however eyed Teldryn with interest. Rowena even began to catch herself glancing at the male dunmer striding at her side much more than usual. She'd never seen him outside of Solstheim, and it was like he was a completely different elf. His chitin helmet was at his side, wedged between his arm and his hip, and Rowena couldn't help but stare at his face – he rarely took the helmet off, so it was a special occasion when she got to examine his features. His skin was clear and smooth, slightly bluer than most dark elves Rowena had met throughout her travels, and decorated with intricate red tattoos along the sides of his face that fascinated her. Normally Rowena thought war paint and facial tattoos were frightening and unnecessary, but they suited Teldryn, giving him an almost mysterious, sexy aura. His eyes were ruby red and always full of mirth and mischief, squinty when he smiled, which was often. His spiky black Mohawk had grown longer since Rowena had first met him, and he would run his hands through it when he was assessing a problem and thinking. Overall, Rowena had to admit that Teldryn Sero was definitely not unpleasing to the eye, and by far the best looking dunmer she'd ever seen. But she tried not to think about that too often, because it made her uncomfortable and unreasonably guilty.

Rowena in her keenness to study the contours and angles of Teldryn's face hadn't even noticed that they'd arrived at the side gate of Windhelm, and when Teldryn caught her staring she looked away, mortified. "After you, sera." He said, addressing her by the formal title of his homeland in Morrowind. Rowena had grown used to the dunmer of Solstheim calling her this after she'd repaired the damage that had been done to Ravenrock's ebony mining, and she was acquainted with nearly all the dark elves that made their home there, as well as the mages of Tel Mithryn. Teldryn wasn't overly fond of the resident wizard there, Neloth, however tolerated it when Rowena had spent time in his estate. He complained often about Neloth's eccentricity and his mushroom housings, however Rowena had grown fond of the crazy bald dark elf and the other members of House Telvanni. Regardless, Rowena loved it especially when Teldryn called her 'sera', although she wasn't sure exactly why.

Rowena entered through the gates of Windhelm and found herself smiling. Although Windhelm was certainly not one of her favourite cities in Skyrim (in fact it was most likely one of her least favourites), she was simply glad to be on home soil as opposed to the alien, barren ash of Solstheim. She looked over at Teldryn, who was surveying the area keenly, his mouth slightly curled in what appeared to be distaste. Rowena knew how bad Windhelm had treated the dunmer inhabitants when Ulfric had donned his false crown and claimed himself to be the true High King of Skyrim, but after Rowena had joined the Imperial side and taken him down she liked to think that at least some progress was being made to restore peace and freedom between elves and men. However Brunwuulf Free-Winter, the new jarl of Windhelm, had told her himself that it would take years, if not centuries to repair the rift between the two great races, especially if the Aldmeri Dominion continued to manipulate the Empire.

Oddly enough, Rowena preferred the Grey Quarters of Windhelm to the other side, filled with bitter nords who despised her for killing who they believed to be their true king. One girl in particular who worked the forge had an especial hatred in her heart, and Rowena was always sure to lock the door of Hjerim tightly at night for fear that she may never wake up the next morning. Although she knew Calder would never let any harm come to her, she feared for his life as well. Even he couldn't stay awake all day and night.

"Ugh. Windhelm. I lived here once for a time, you know. Filled with angry nords and bitter dunmer. Must we linger here?" Teldryn complained, running a hand through his Mohawk. Rowena sighed and nodded weakly. Windhelm gave her the creeps with its high stone walls and snowy, labyrinth-like streets. Every time she would go to sleep in Hjerim she was plagued with nightmarish dreams, sometimes reliving the events that had led up to Calixto Corrium's capture, the previous butcher of Windhelm, however changed slightly, for at the end instead of Rowena cornering and killing him in her future home's main hall she would realize that she was killing herself, and that she was the true butcher. She would awake from these particular recurring dreams in a cold sweat, and only Calder could come into her room and comfort her enough for her to fall back into an uneasy sleep. She didn't like the streets either, because they reminded her of the carnage and death of the civil war, and that last conquest where they had retaken Windhelm. She'd killed so many on that fateful day, more people in such a short timespan than she ever had. Their ghosts seemed to follow her and haunt her, breathing down her neck and whispering her name with vengeance. Even the wind whistling through the twisted corridors and alleys seemed to echo the voices of the fallen. She suppressed a shiver.

"We'll be done here quickly. I just want to drop by my house, visit my housecarl. I reckon we'll spend the night there, then hire a carriage to take us to Riften."

That sparked Teldryn's interest. "Riften, hm? Glover Mallory told me all about it. I wonder if it's the way he always describes it."

"I'm sure you won't be disappointed." Rowena smirked, realizing in surprise how much she missed the corrupt streets of the Rift's bustling city and its crafty inhabitants. She missed her fellow thieves' guild members as well, and the Ragged Flagon had become somewhat of a second home to her. It would be nice to visit, and she hoped Brynjolf wouldn't be too busy or distracted to grab a drink with her in the bar. However the chances of that seemed slim, since after she became the Guildmaster he'd been frequently ever distant, always complaining about the important business he had to attend to. That had been before Rowena had sailed off to Solstheim for several months, leaving behind Skyrim and the life she had made for herself there. She hadn't even brought Marcurio along, leaving him safe at Lakeview Manor where she knew no harm could come to him. For some reason, she had desperately needed to get away for a while. After everything she'd gone through with Alduin, the Dawnguard, and the civil war she felt as though Skyrim was becoming too much for her to handle, and she presumed that going for a vacation in Solstheim for a while would be a nice reprieve. Of course, she'd been sorely mistaken, for things were even worse on Solstheim upon her arrival than it had been in Skyrim when she'd been caught crossing the border in that Imperial ambush several years ago. Marcurio had been hesitant to let her go alone at first, but eventually he'd relented. After Rowena found out about Miraak and all the trouble and strife that plagued the island of Solstheim, however, she'd regretted not bringing him along. That was when she'd met Teldryn Sero. She remembered first laying eyes on him as if it had been yesterday.

Rowena slunk past Candlehearth Hall, nodding formally to Captain Lonely-Gale when she passed him, who nodded in return and sent Teldryn a funny look. Rowena wanted to avoid the market district of Windhelm and so took the lesser used route to Hjerim through the little cemetery decorated with cracked, deteriorating tombstones. Rowena shuddered – the blood of the butcher's first victim was still splattered across the stone, although it had faded to a dull brown colour as if someone had tried furiously to rub it off but their efforts had been futile. Teldryn eyed it suspiciously and detected the noticeable change in Rowena's demeanour but otherwise didn't address it, to Rowena's relief. She didn't want to go reliving the events of the butcher of Windhelm in waking hours as well as in her dream world.

A light snow was falling outside when Rowena and Teldryn crossed the threshold into Hjerim. A merry fire was crackling in the hearth and the room was aglow with warmth and flickering light illuminated by the torches decorating the sconces along the wall. Teldryn looked around the place, seemingly impressed. "Nice place you've got here. Although I understand why you would want to get out of this miserable city. Why you chose Solstheim, though, I will never know…"

Rowena smirked but her expression quickly changed to that of unbridled delight when she spotted Calder tromping down the stairs, wearing a casual linen outfit in pace of his customary steel armour and sporting a broad grin when his icy blue eyes fell on his thane. "An honour to see you again, my thane," he said in his thick Nord accent. He rushed forward to embrace Rowena, who gladly accepted his companionable hug. Rowena was about to pull away when she noticed Calder's arms suddenly stiffening around her, his body going rigid against her. "The elf is a friend, I take it?"

Rowena reluctantly extracted herself from Calder's grasp and took a hasty step back. Beside her, Teldryn had stiffened too, and as her eyes roved over him she noticed that his right hand was twitching by his side, as though he were itching to unsheathe his elven dagger. Rowena could sense the palpable tension in the air between the nord and elf, and she wondered if it would have been wise to send Calder a letter beforehand explaining Teldryn's presence. The two sized each other up with suspicion in their eyes, grey ice meeting fiery red in a silent challenge. Rowena knew she would have to diffuse the situation before it blew up in her face. And she was positive that Teldryn wouldn't have liked the tone Calder's voice had taken on when he'd said 'elf'.

"Uh, Calder, this is Teldryn Sero. He's a dunmer from Solstheim. We met at an inn in Ravenrock and he's been my companion for the last few months. There was…" Rowena glanced at Teldryn, wondering how she could possible hope to sum up all of the events and carnage that had occurred on the island of Solstheim. "…err, trouble, in Solstheim. Teldryn helped me. Quite a bit. Saved my life more times than I can count." She flashed her friend a small smile and Teldryn's mouth twitched, however his eyes remained fixated on Calder. She cleared her throat, putting what she hoped was a comforting and placating hand on her housecarl's arm. His features did seem to soften somewhat at her touch, but he still maintained a decidedly cool mannerism when he stretched out a hand to shake with Teldryn. Rowena watched this formal gesture with bated breath; their grips on one another's hands seemed unnecessary tight, and the tension that was undoubtedly animosity lingered in the air.

"Nice to meet you… Calder, is it?" Teldryn asked in his haughty, almost regal voice. Calder merely grunted and offered a stiff nod before they released one another's hands. Rowena was relieved that they hadn't broken each other's bones with that terse shake.

The silence that ensued was pregnant with distrust and uncertainty. Rowena cleared her throat. "Right. I'm glad you two could meet. Calder, how are the provisions?"

Always the dutiful housecarl, Calder eventually backed down, averting his gaze from Teldryn's and adopting his usual calm but aloof demeanour when he turned to face his thane. "I stocked up at the market about a fortnight ago. I'm sorry, thane. If I had known you would be returning, and with… guests…"

Rowena waved a nonchalant hand in the air, misliking the passive aggressive way Calder had addressed Teldryn. "Don't worry. I'm the one at fault, for not telling you earlier that I'd be coming home. It's fine. We're only staying the night, anyways."

"Oh?" Calder's grim, detached expression flickered slightly, betraying the obvious disappointment he felt in knowing Rowena would only be staying for a short period of time. However the crack in his mask disappeared almost instantaneously. "I will head out to the market immediately. I know it's a bit late but I'm sure I can catch them just before they're packing up –"

"That won't be necessary, Calder. I'm sure that whatever's here will be sufficient for the three of us to eat." She flashed him a smile. Rowena had always felt affectionate toward her housecarl of Eastmarch, however he was much more serious about his job than any of the other housecarls she had to serve her. Although all had been trained to obey their thanes without question, Calder was the only one whose unflinching loyalty to Rowena caused her to believe that he would truly jump in front of an arrow to save her. Lydia was fierce and loyal but lazy, Argis strong and able-bodied but quick to anger and impulsive, Jordis only wished to serve but seemed cowardly, Iona kind but soft-hearted, and Rayya intelligent – too intelligent for her own good, Rowena sometimes believed. But Calder; he embodied everything that a housecarl was meant to, although sometimes his unwavering loyalty and desire to serve frightened her. He would never so much as step a toe out of line and would never dare disobey Rowena, however his eagerness to bend to any of her whims and wishes made her feel odd and exploitative. She didn't like feeling as though she were a master of anybody, least of all kind, solid Calder. This was precisely why she often resisted asking him to do things for her, even when he offered. She had always gotten her own provisions and done things independently anyways, but no matter how much she tried to convince Calder that he wasn't just a glorified slave she sometimes needed to command him not to do the boring chores and every-day routine things in order to stop him from doing them.

"Please, thane. I'd like a walk, anyhow. Stretch my legs." Calder implored. Rowena sighed and fixed him with a look, but something about his expression told her that he really did want to go. She wondered if he had any other reason to be out on the streets of Windhelm than to simply buy provisions. He seemed more insistent than she'd ever known him to be.

Rowena relented. "Well, if you really want to. But hurry back. It's cold out there, and Arkay knows who's lurking about in the shadows…"

Calder smirked. "If you'll recall, the butcher of Windhelm has been caught and is currently rotting in a crypt in the Hall of the Dead. Thanks to you." His smirk broadened into one of his rare smiles that Rowena loved to see. "As for the cold, I've lived in Eastmarch my whole life. A little snow never hurt anybody, least of all me. But I'll return promptly, as my thane wishes."

Rowena balked. "Well, take your time… if… if that is what you wish… whatever you want." Rowena internally groaned. She had never been quite comfortable interacting with her housecarls. Sometimes she wished she didn't have any at all.

Calder just smiled as if used to this kind of behaviour from his thane and tipped his head toward her before eyeing Teldryn one last time, grabbing his thick fur coat off the rack near the door, and stepping out into the snowy and darkening streets of Windhelm. Rowena watched him for a moment, her irrational and unfounded fear of killers loose in Windhelm running through her head. She turned to Teldryn, who'd been studying her since Calder left with a strange expression in his ruby red eyes.

"What?" Rowena asked, suddenly uncertain and uncomfortable under his penetrating gaze. He chuckled and shook his head as if bemused.

"Oh, nothing. It's just amusing to watch you address him. Exactly how long has he been in love with you, now?"

All of Rowena's discomfort evaporated to be replaced by a disconcerting conglomeration of emotions; shock, annoyance, disbelief, anger. "I – he – he's not – you're – that's completely –"

"Sputter all you want, you're in denial and I think you know it. There's no way you can't notice the way that he looks at you, like a sad lost puppy just waiting for a nice, long cuddle. Quite repellent, really –"

Eventually anger won out in the battle to become Rowena's dominant emotion, and this was evidenced when Rowena extended her arm and planted her fist straight into Teldryn's stomach. Unfortunately he foresaw the attack and clenched a hand around her wrist before her fist could make contact with his body. Her other hand flew chaotically toward his head but he caught that, too, as though he were somehow able to predict every little attempt to hit him. Rowena wasn't sure if it was his long-standing battle reflexes and training kicking in or whether she was just really off her game, but regardless of the answer Rowena now found herself in the clutches of Teldryn Sero and completely at his mercy.

He tsked in that annoying way of his and peered down his long, slender nose to fix his red eyes onto Rowena's forest-like green ones. Rowena froze, suddenly captivated by his gaze. She became acutely aware of her body's proximity to the elf, and she could practically count each of the long, dark lashes that framed his intoxicating eyes. His grasp on her was strong and solid but gentle, gentler than she could ever have imagined this battle-hardened warrior to handle anything. His hands were warm and calloused against her cool, pale skin, his bluey-grey skin providing a stark contrast in colour. Something in his expression shifted – bemusement rapidly changed to something else, something more animalistic and unreadable to Rowena in her state of paralysis.

"L-let go of me…" Rowena's own voice sounded dream-like and distant even in her own ears, as if she were listening to somebody else through a thick pane of glass.

"More denial," was it just a trick of Rowena's imagination, or was his voice less cheeky as it had been before, more breathy and ragged? "You and I both know you don't really want that." His usually silky tone was now husky and low, causing a strange and foreign stirring to emerge deep within her.

His eyes searched hers desperately, as though he were trying to find something buried within their depths. Rowena couldn't even breathe. She was utterly powerless to do anything, and couldn't wrest her way out of Teldryn's grasp even if she wanted to. And at that moment, she wasn't entirely sure what she wanted.

"I don't blame him," he murmured under his breath, almost too low for Rowena to catch. His words confused her – didn't blame who, and for what? She didn't know what he was referring to, but as soon as he'd finished this enigmatic sentence he released her and drew away as if alarmed, studying her with too-large eyes. This broke the spell, at least for him. Rowena had lost her voice, and even if she were able to find it, what would she say? He cleared his throat. "I, um… I need to… I'll be back."

And just like that, he had left her. The door brought in a sudden burst of cold air when it shut behind him, and Rowena was alone.


End file.
